


Witch Of Gotham

by LananiA3O



Series: Batfam Week prompt fills [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Swearing, board game night, or at least as fluffy as I can go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 04:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11349975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LananiA3O/pseuds/LananiA3O
Summary: While recovering from serious injuries given to him by Killer Croc, Jason finds himself getting roped into joining Barb, Dick and Tim for a session of a co-operative board game called "Witch Of Salem". Madness ensues.





	Witch Of Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill an Anon's Batfam Week prompt for a board game night between the kids, preferably fluff. You can find the full prompt here:  
> http://lananiscorner.tumblr.com/post/162404519468/hi-im-a-longtime-fan-of-your-arkham-compendium
> 
> Since the board game I chose for this prompt is pretty obscure, I have uploaded some pictures of it (including the setups at the beginning and end of this fic) over here:  
> http://lananiscorner.tumblr.com/post/162404434123/companion-photos-for-my-latest-prompt-fic-witch
> 
> Writing this one was a lot of fun, because I was essentially writing as I was playing the game, simulating the session that the batkids played.
> 
> For those of you who ask me to write fluff: this is about as fluffy as things can get with me.

The kitten purred softly under his fingers, a long, drawn-out sound of ignorant bliss that he could almost _feel_ in his hand. Almost.

What he _could_ feel was her fur, short, soft, and extra-thick from the fluffy winter undercoat, as she stretched out in his lap, practically begging for another round of grooming. Jason sighed as he shook out his tired fingers and reached for the brush once more.

Grooming a seven-pound kitten shouldn’t have been as much of an effort as it had turned out to be, but then again, they had removed the cast around his hand just yesterday. The damage Croc had done to his bones four weeks ago might have healed, but his tendons and muscles were still rusty from the long-term lack of use, and even though he knew it was silly and just his imagination, Jason could have sworn he could still feel remnants of the restrictive shell of plaster that had immobilized him on his skin. As much as he hated to admit it, for now, soft, uncomplicated, repetitive tasks were the best thing he could put his fingers through.

Light housework. Short periods of drawing. Half-hours of data-base work. Grooming the kitty.

“No! Goddamn you, Necron!”

Mitaine scuttled from his grasp with a short hiss and bolted up the stairs. Jason couldn’t blame her. Dick Grayson had the ability to be really, really annoyingly loud when he wanted to.

And sometimes even when he didn’t.

Navigating in the new, manual wheel chair was still a royal pain in the ass (and even more so in his fingers), but at least he managed to make it from the kitchen to the den without crashing into anything. That was progress.

“Alright, which one of you has summoned the Lovecraftian hell spawn and needs to get their ass kicked?”

His scowl at the pitiful victory of getting from A to B only deepened when he saw what had prompted this ruckus.

The game was beautifully drawn, he had to give credit where credit was due. On the map of a small city seven buildings – Sanatorium, Arkham News, Witch House, Hotel, Cemetery, Church, and Miskatonic University – were lovingly rendered in atmospheric detail, shrouded in half-shadows, with ghouls and witches walking the street and eldritch horrors reaching out their tentacles to grab innocent passersby. It looked a tad over-crowded, but not too much. Around the board, three plates with character portraits and various tokens on them were laid out in front of his obnoxious siblings.

Dick, despite standing in what appeared to be a monster-free zone on the map, looked the most despaired of them all, one hand running through and tousling his hair, the other balled into a fist by his side.

“We just pulled the Necron card! Can you believe it? Goddamn Necron and this game is going to hell as we speak.”

Barbara frowned.

“It’s not quite so bad. We all still have full sanity, the map is half empty and two portals are sealed already. It could be so much worse. And in my defense, I warned Dick that this game is more likely to kick our asses than the other way around.”

“Except Necron’s marker is only three slots away from ending the game in our defeat and all the monsters have been shuffled back into the deck thanks to the Necron card. This could be over as soon as the next turn starts,” Tim argued.

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“Necron reshuffles the cards?”

“And moves the Necron marker one slot ahead for each monster on the board,” Tim said as he pointed at the ominous border around the battlefield. “If Necron’s marker reaches the halfway point before we have unveiled the Great Old One hidden in R’lyeh, we lose.” He pointed at the upper right border of the board where the ocean seemed just about ready to eat the cemetery. “If he reaches the final slot before we defeat the hidden Great Old One, we lose. If we forget to seal any of the portals,” he traced he six little boxes next to the main buildings, “we lose. If we seal one that’s not actually a portal, we lose. If one of us reaches zero sanity while having a key artifact in the inventory, we lose. If there is only one player left, we lose, because it takes at least two to finish this game. Six ways to lose. Only one way to win.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right for that cheating bastard, Necron.”

Jason moved next to Barbara and inspected the pieces on the board more closely. There was a die that – judging from the items printed on its side – was clearly a loss die, to be rolled each round.

“I’m guessing the glasses are for looking up the portals, the daggers are for slaying monsters, and the potions give you back some sanity?”

“And the books uncover the Great Old Ones, yes.”

“Okay. And who’s the white fucker currently chilling at the church with Dick?” It had to be Dick, even if the person depicted on the plate was a girl. The second figurine on that building was blue.

“The Witch of Salem,” Barbara explained. “World’s greatest monster hunter, according to the in-game lore. He’s sort of the Batman of this Lovecraftian apocalypse-fighting brigade.”

“Still sucking up to the old man, even in a game, huh, Dickhead...” Dick’s jaw dropped. Whatever response he was about to give, Jason didn’t want to hear it. “Why’s _he_ called a _witch_ , anyway? He should be a warlock. And what the hell is he doing hanging around in a monster-free place, if he’s supposed to be so badass? Shouldn’t he be on the front lines?”

With a slight grin, Tim handed him a fourth character plate, this time depicting some red-headed fellow called David Foster. Whoever had designed this game had clearly thought that red was too evil a color for their fourth hero and had instead painted the entire thing in orange. The only thing on it that did not fall into the red spectrum was a glasses token.

“Why don’t you join us and we’ll explain it to you as we go along? This game can be pretty exposition-dumpy if you try to describe it up front.”

“Hell no.” He knew where this was going. He was not getting himself roped into this. “Fuck you, Timbers. I’m gonna go find your cat. I’d rather spend another half hour brushing out her fur than join this madness.”

“Jason...” To his right, Dick was almost on his knees and his hands were pressed together as if he were really praying. His face had contorted into a gut-wrenching pout that made his eyes and lips appear twice as big as they should be, like some goddamn puppy. “Please, Little Wing! We need your help here! This guy’s three slots away from summoning—“ Dick stayed perfectly in character as he reached for the list of Great Old Ones in the game, before turning to him once more, “—summoning Hastur or Cthulhu! _Cthulhu_ , Jason!!! Are you honestly just gonna let him destroy the world?!”

“It’s a game, _Dick._ ” He had seen those pleading puppy dog eyes, this dirty trick, many times before. He wasn’t going to fall for it. “Besides, I might just enjoy hearing you howl in despair as he wipes the three of you off the board and erases fucking Arkham.”

“In that case,” Barb took a quick sip from her glass of red wine,” I suggest that you do join us. Then you get to see it as well, full 3D, five-senses experience, and given what the game board looks like right now, it can’t take very long either.”

 _She does have a point_ , Jason mused as he studied the board once more. He shooed Dick off with a mocked slap and took a deep sigh as he accepted the plate. “Let’s get it over with, then.”

Barbara was first. She moved back to the church – apparently returning to a place they had already been to could only be done once and cost one of six sanity points – to uncover Cthulhu using the book in her inventory, take up a pair of glasses at the cost of another sanity point, and restock the item row. Tim rolled his eyes and shuddered at the idea of Hastur of all creatures being the final Great Old One, though Jason could not see why that was such a problem. As far as he remembered his Lovecraft – and it had been a while – he was no better or worse than Cthulhu.

Dick came next and he moved to the sanatorium – _perfect place for him_ , Jason thought for all of a second, before Joker’s voice in his head gracefully reminded him of another former Robin who had taken a trip to the _real_ Arkham’s sanatorium - where he lost one sanity point to a hungry zombie, only to slay the beast a moment later and use the glasses to see if he would actually be able to make use of the orange artifact in his inventory.

“So... portal or not?”

“I mustn’t tell.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” That was the most stupid, bullshit rule he had ever heard. What kind of cooperative game barred its players from cooperating?

“Well, he can’t tell...” Barbara added quickly, “but that doesn’t mean, _we can’t tell_. Look closer.”

He did and it clicked almost immediately. All of the hidden, unsealed fields were upright, except for the one Dick had just looked at. He had turned the marker by forty-five degrees. Part of him found that darkly amusing. If Bruce had taught all of them one useful thing, it was how to bend the rules to absurdity.

Tim was last. He moved to the Arkham News field, lost one of his three daggers to the shoggote currently nesting there and picked up a purple artifact of his own, before pointing at the icon on top of it. “Each time you pick up an artifact, you have to pay the price. In this case, we have to draw an event card.”

The event turned out to be the useless witch who was actually a warlock travelling by two spaces, landing on the Sanatorium with Dick once more, and three items being pulled from the item bag to be distributed among players. Jason took the dagger, Dick the potion, and Tim the book. Another event card was drawn for the end of the round, this time moving Cthulhu onto the actual game board at the university and sending the useless witch who was actually a warlock to the Arkham News.

The next round started with two new monsters, and Barbara walking him through his first turn.

He decided to go to the church first, since it was still free of monsters and its portal unchecked. He traded his dagger to Barb to improve her chances of fighting the zombie at the witch house in her turn, then sacrificed his glasses to look underneath the portal stone, only to find nothing but a wall. He turned it ninety degrees and felt a strange tinge of pride swell inside him as Barbara gave him a silent thumbs up. Another thing Bruce had at least _tried_ to teach them: communicating in silence. _He_ had taken it too fucking far. Barb had not. With a quick frown, Jason picked up the dagger and called his turn quits.

Barbara moved to the witch house as promised and – having to roll the dice twice thanks to Cthulhu, ended up with one sanity point less. She went on to annihilate the zombie guarding the house and check her own portal. Ninety degrees. So much for blue artifacts.

Dick scowled at his lack of options – a cemetery with absolutely nothing to do for him, a University with a Great Old One he could not defeat, a secret passage card that was useless, and the hotel, where he was likely to lose the items he would need to defeat the resident soul devourer in the die roll. He took the gamble anyway and came out only one potion short.

Tim frowned at the board, then used his secret passage card to join Barbara at the witch house, trading his book for one of her daggers so he could try to slay Cthulhu in his next turn.

They pulled the next event card and removed the one creature they would not have enough items to stop from the board, before pulling two new creature cards. With all his options being made of equal suckage, Jason went to the Arkham News field. It cost him his dagger and moved Necron one spot forward, followed by one more slot as he recovered the glasses from the board. Someone had to do it, though. They still had one portal to check.

Barbara cursed under her breath, moved to the Cemetery, and used her book to reveal Hastur. Now two Great Old Ones were active on the board, the loss die had to be rolled twice per encounter, and the useless witch who was actually a warlock had truly become completely useless, as all his abilities had been rendered ineffective by Hastur. Still, with Necron only two slots away from the soft game over marker, there was not much they could have done.

Dick joined her at the cemetery and traded his book for her dagger in preparation for his eventual return to the sanatorium. Tim on the other hand, moved back to the university, recovered all his location cards, and lost one sanity point and one Necron slot to the die roll, but at least Cthulhu was now dead, thanks to his triple daggers.

“One of us is gonna have to get two potions and one dagger so we can kick Hastur’s ass,” Tim muttered as he pulled the event card for the end of the round. “Preferably either Jason or Dick, because Barb and I are slowly going insane.”

“Slowly?”

They pulled the card to send the useless witch who was actually a warlock to a location of their choice, which seemed like a cruel joke now that he was no longer effective. Jason frowned.

“Leave the useless bastard where he is and let’s just get on with it.”

Their first new monster was the second of the pair of shoggotes, which finally caused Necron to move to the halfway marker. The second was the second cultist, which moved the marker even further. Five slots to go to the end of the world.

Jason moved to the university, recovered his cards and handed his glasses to Tim. He would need them for the last portal – while Barbara went to the sanatorium and lost two sanity points, one for the die and one to retrieve a potion. Dick joined her right after, collected the potion, and had to move Necron one slot ahead before killing the blood hunter waiting for them and sealing the portal. Tim moved to the Arkham News, rolling an item he did not have and promptly looked under the last portal slot. His relieved sigh was all the information they needed.

“Thank god! Jason, please go to the witch house next. Get that potion. Dick, follow him and give him your potion so he can go kick Hastur’s ass in the next round. Barb and I will try to find safe zones on the map so we can save our last artifacts to seal that portal at the university.”

“See, Jason,” Dick grinned at him like the devil himself. “You even get to slay the uber boss. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

It would have, had they not pulled an event card that moved Necron forward two slots, followed immediately by the Necron card himself – because that had gone back into the deck as well. With three monsters currently on the map, that was exactly what was needed to send Necron to the final portal to bring about the end of the world.

Jason blinked. Was it really over, just like that? After all their hard work to get through this? So close to the end? It was silly. It was stupid. The familiar feeling of rage curled in his gut.

“Fuck this son of a bitch up his cheap, trick-busting ass with a barb-wired dildo!” He glared at the white figurine on the board and had to resist the urge to crush the thing in his good fist. “And fuck that useless witch as well! World’s Greatest Monster Hunter, my fucking ass! Pinche pendejo de una puta madre!”

To his left, Barbara tried her best to cover up a sudden bout of giggles with her hand and deep breathing, while Tim rolled his eyes from the other side of the table.

“I warned you. Honestly, I’m surprised we made it this far.”

“The Witch of Salem really was useless, though,” Dick agreed as he got up, stretched, and then settled down on his chair once more in a painful-looking tangle of limbs. “Oh well. Guess there’s always tomorrow.”

“Fuck tomorrow.” Jason didn’t wait for their feedback, instead setting to clear up the board, sorting cards into their respective stacks and putting all item chips back into the little bag they had come from, before tossing them to Tim. “Set up the board again. I’ll go get some drinks and chips and when I come back, we’re gonna destroy that motherfucker.”

Instead of waiting for a reply, Jason backed out of his corner and made for the hallway to the kitchen once more.

The kitten would have to wait.


End file.
